


Make a Choice

by Oliver__Niko



Series: Whumptober 2019 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, Gen, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 13:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20908379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/pseuds/Oliver__Niko
Summary: Byleth has had to make a lot of choices for his students. Countless, even. Never has it been a burden, nor has he minded, until he is forced to choose which one will die.





	Make a Choice

**Author's Note:**

> //For day 5 of Whumptober, 'Gunpoint'
> 
> I can't write for every day of this event being as I'm doing exactly that for Inktober, however I want to still use a few prompts. I've been seriously enjoying my first playthrough of Three Houses and decided to make this my first fic for it. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (Also, even I don't really know the backstory of what's happening here, being as it's just a short thing for the prompt. Please bear that in mind before potentially asking, haha!)

“_Make a choice, professor.”_

Edelgard, smiling as she displays a side to herself that others rarely see. So calm and collected usually, it is rather amusing to see her act almost innocently, as she asks her beloved professor what type of dress she should wear at graduation. Hubert flashes a glare over at Byleth. The latter is aware that Hubert may prefer to give this advice, and sends Edelgard his way. She looks beautiful in anything regardless.

“_Make a choice, professor.”_

Hubert’s turn. Asking Byleth’s preferred method of dying when Hubert finally murders him. Byleth laughs and shakes his head in disbelief. Of course, Hubert is only joking … he thinks. It can often be difficult to tell, but there is something in Hubert’s eyes which glint with amusement, rather than malicious intent.

“_Make a choice, professor.”_

Linhardt may seem to care little for anything but sleeping and what topic he is currently fixated on to research, yet Byleth has soon learned how much Linhardt actually enjoys fishing—or simply eating fish when he is too exhausted to fish himself. You can see that spark in his eyes, saved for the few things he well and truly adores, as he asks Byleth what fish they should eat in a shared meal together.

“_Make a choice, professor.”_

Morning or evening? That is the time Caspar wants to know when Byleth will be available to train the following day. Granted, Byleth has not actually stated yet that he is even available. Although for one of his beloved students, he can surely find the time out of his schedule. They deserve this much at the very least.

“_Make a choice, professor.”_

Petra has a love for the outdoors. She too wants to spend time with her professor, wanting to know where he would prefer to hunt, and he will happily oblige. Sometimes it’s enjoyable to simply watch Petra and urge her on. She always tries her best, after all.

“_Make a choice, professor.”_

As enthusiastic as he is over tea, Ferdinand is still more than happy to allow his teacher to pick which tea leaves they use. Byleth can only hope that he makes a good choice for someone so passionate—then again, perhaps Ferdinand loves tea enough that he will enjoy it, regardless of the choice Byleth makes.

“_Make a choice, professor.”_

As timid as dear Bernadetta is, she possesses a great talent for cooking. As she stares dreamily over a recipe book, too indecisive herself to pick, you would hardly expect her to be so anxious usually. She is in her element here as she practically bounces in excitement over whatever her teacher chooses.

“_Make a choice, professor.”_

Dorothea may seem forward about a number of things, however her confidence in her singing voice definitely deserves all the credit she gives it. As she stands with her arms folded, urging Byleth to give her a song to sing, it is all for good reason. Byleth enjoys seeing this confidence. He has a belief that Dorothea may not be as confident as she makes herself out to be, to see this be genuine fills him with joy.

“_Make a choice, professor.”_

He has been given many choices over his time of teaching. Little and large, casual and important—a number of choices have weighed on his shoulders, and every time, he handles it the best he can. He adores his students far beyond what is expected of him.

So he cannot make a choice this time.

Not when a gun is placed into his hands, now untied and resting on his lap. It’s heavier than one might think, though still far, far lighter than the dread which presses down onto his chest.

“Come on. I’ve already told you what to do. Pick one, just one, and the rest will be let go. No need to hide any favouritism here.”

His eyes blink as the blindfold is removed. It takes little time for them to adjust. Only a scarce amount of light illuminates the room. A flickering, dim source on the ceiling, bathing the figures below in a faint glow.

His students, lined up one by one, all unconscious with their heads lowered and arms tied to their chairs.

It’s as awful as he imagined. His hands, typically steady and in control, tremble underneath the weight of the gun. He wishes to look at anything but them, yet his eyes betray him. They scan over each student one by one.

As he notices wisps of their hair colours, their torn outfits, their skin tones, he hears their voices in his ears. Laughing, crying. Because they trust him no matter the emotion they bear. Nothing is too much, there is no emotion to be ashamed of.

They can trust him with their very lives. Only now, it has lead them to this, where these lives have never once been so vulnerable in Byleth’s hands.

_Click. _The sound of the gun behind Byleth’s own head.

“We’ll kill all of you if you take too long. Come on, isn’t the death of _one _student far better than all of them? Surely there’s _one _here who gets on your nerves?”

All of them have, at one point. That is what it means to be young, and what one will have to bear with when you’re a professor. It is surely not a reason to _dislike _any of them. Everyone is flawed in some way, and it is Byleth’s task as their teacher to accept and love these flaws as part of them.

He has never wanted to carve them into perfect ideals. He guides them, pushes them to do their best, but never forces them. Their choices and goals are their own. And though he may help them work on their weaknesses, he will never tell them that those weaknesses are a mistake, that they would be stronger without them.

They’re perfect as they are. Byleth cannot, and will not, ever tell them otherwise.

He swallows. He finds it is painful to do so. Still, he attempts to shake away all fear, allow his voice to be clear enough to be heard.

“So you are saying that so long as one person in this room dies,” says Byleth, “then all the others will be saved?”

“That’s right. Make it a good choice, professor.”

The answer is as clear as day. The _only _answer, even. Because he has sworn his life to protect these students, to lead them into battle with certainty that they will come out alive. That is what he has promised them.

_I will protect you. I will help you grow into all you wish to be. I will remain by your side no matter how difficult this may become for you._

He would die for them before harming a single hair on their head.

The gun behind him seems to jerk, as though the person holding it has shaken from surprise. Surprise that there is not only one gun pointed at his head, but rather two, as Byleth presses the barrel of his gun against his temple.

“What are you—”

“You said anyone in this room. I imagine that also includes me. And you have brought me here to cause me to suffer—would you reject my death?”

There is no answer. This means no confirmation that they will allow this to end their game, but there is no denial, either. Then it is decided.

There is only one thing that causes him to falter. That is a female groan, the head of platinum hair rising steadily, as those terrified eyes fight against fatigue and force themselves open.

“My teacher, wait!”

He smiles. Hopes that Edelgard accepts this single apology, and understands how much of an honour it has been to lead her class to victory.

So much of an honour that he will let it go, so long as they remain safe.

His eyes close as he presses the trigger. He is dead before he can hear her scream, before he slumps off the chair and onto the cold concrete below.

“When you’re the one who caused your death,” says the familiar voice of Sothis, as he awakens in another realm, “there really is no point in rewinding time for you, is there?”

No, there isn’t. Because he would make the exact same choice again and again. He would take his life a thousand times over, even by a way far slower and more painful than this, if it meant he could protect them.

All he asks is that he can continue to watch over them, be with them in spirit, and watch as they flourish into the incredible adults he knows they will become.


End file.
